


Spinning Clocks

by escribo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Time Travel, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 11:07:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11690367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escribo/pseuds/escribo
Summary: Remus is desperate to change the course of history.





	Spinning Clocks

The lane where Remus landed was quiet but the stench of brimstone burned his nose even this far off and he was overwhelmed by the fear that he was already too late. He hadn't expected to be so disoriented. It wasn't like Apparition. His head spun and his hands shook, making the weak light from his wand waver as he counted out the two lefts and a right, the third house in the row. He hadn't been sure he'd be able to see it but there it was, the front door hanging from its hinge. 

He stepped inside, the remains of a shattered vase and its scattered flowers crunching beneath the heels of his boots. The heavy, rotten odor was stronger here, and as he moved deeper into the house, past the signs of a violent struggle, he tried to take short breaths through his mouth, not wanting to breathe it in. He knew what he'd find: the wedding picture smashed at the foot of the stairs, James--James would already be dead, and even after so much time, the thought of it still hurt. There was a sudden, piercing cry--Lily's, he wondered, or his own? He wasn't sure but knew he was too late.

"You--"

The voice sounded tortured but familiar in its tone of fear. Remus hadn't expected to see Peter here, but couldn't give it any thought. He shouldn't have been seen. No one could know that he was here--the consequences would be disastrous. As Peter drew out his wand, Remus shouted the first spell that came to his mind and watched in horror and fascination as Peter's head began to swell to twice its normal size from a favorite hex of James and Sirius in their fifth year. Remus couldn't imagine why he'd thought of it now, but it was enough to stun Peter into silence.

"Immobulus!" Remus shouted before Peter could recover and lift his wand, and then he watched as Peter fell onto his back, his limbs stiff. Remus bent over him, carefully avoiding the sight of James lying crumpled on the stair just above them. 

"So, I suppose this is how it happened," he whispered. "James must have called you for help, and Sirius found you here." Remus watched as Peter's eyes went wide and wild. "Did you escape? I suppose you must have. And then he killed you in front of all those Muggles."

"Traitor!" Peter forced from his locked jaw.

"I know," Remus whispered sadly. It was still hard to think of Sirius that way, though he knew it must be true. What other explanation could there be? He pressed the tip of his wand against Peter's temple, leaning in even closer. "I can stop it, Peter. I'm going to try."

From the floor above them came a different kind of cry--Harry. Sirius would be here soon. Remus was too late. He looked back down at Peter and saw that he was trying to form words, and Remus gave a bleak laugh. "You weren't suppose to see me here, but at least this time I can protect you from what's going to happen until I can figure things out, all right? Believe me when I say that I wish there was another way. Obliviate."

Peter's eyes clouded over as the charm erased his memories of the night. Banishing him was a bit more difficult; Remus had never tried it on a person before. He imagined Peter waking up wherever it was that all of James' old textbooks and their empty bottles of firewhiskey went when they'd shared a room at Hogwarts. Remus stood and dusted his worn traveling cloak, listening for a moment more as Harry cried. He wanted to go to him, comfort him, but already Remus could hear the roar of Sirius' motorbike as he raced closer.

From deep inside a pocket, Remus dug out a worn parchment and prodded it with his wand. A tiny flag etched with his name fluttered weakly as a similar one that read _Sirius,_ moved ever closer. For a second, Remus stood still in the darkness, longing to see Sirius' face, but Remus doubted his ability to subdue Sirius as easily as he had Peter, and besides, it was done. He was too late. Reluctantly, he whispered the countercharm to his spell and felt the world spin dizzyingly toward a bright line at the horizon he'd almost reached before he passed out.

***

The clock above the kitchen sink tocked louder than it ticked, and Remus' first conscious thought was that he really ought to see about getting it fixed. He could ask Arthur, he supposed, the next time he saw him. Though with the leak in the kitchen spigot getting worse, the tock provided a rather nice counterpoint to the drip drip drip. Remus lay flat on his back on the cold and cracked linoleum and considered this for a long time before the owl tapping at his window broke up his rather strange symphony. 

Standing, he dug some coins from the bottom of a pocket in his cloak and then the last of the owl treats from a jar on the dish drain. He pried open the window, allowing in a blast of cold, and the rather scruffy bird stuck out his leg as it precariously perched on the window ledge. Remus took the newspaper and placed the sickle into the small bag tied to the owl's leg. The bird nibbled at the offered treat before it took off, swooping low through the garden before it disappeared into the cloudy sky.

Remus closed the window and tossed the paper onto the table next to the discarded cups of tea and open books. He didn't look at the date. Not yet. Not when his memory of the night before was still fuzzy. Instead, he turned to his fussy little stove, using his wand to light the burner, and made a cup of tea using yesterday's teabag.

"You're up."

Remus jumped at the sound of Peter's voice, scalding his hand as he dropped his cup.

"Sorry, mate. I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's fine. I just--" Remus edged his way around the kitchen to the sink and put his hand beneath a stream of cold water. Next to him, his cup repaired itself at Peter's whispered spell.

"Let me see," Peter said, tugging on Remus' sleeve. Remus watched as Peter tapped his wand over the back of Remus' hand, healing the slight scalding. "At least I still remember the healing charms James made me learn."

"Thanks."

"No problem. It's nice to feel useful every now and again. My mum doesn't want me to lift a finger around the house, and it gets dull. I don't suppose anyone would've thought I'd be the one complaining about not being able to work."

Peter turned to the stove, apparently intent on making another pot of tea, and Remus left him to it. Crossing the kitchen, he sat at his table and picked up the newspaper. The date read 1 November 1982--that was right at least--but Remus struggled to remember exactly what had happened the night before.

"You look done in, Moony."

"Yeah," Remus whispered. He cupped his head and rubbed the heels of his hands into eyes. When he looked up, Peter was staring at him, and Remus gave him a tight-lipped smile back. "I'm fine."

"You've been hitting the drink a bit harder than usual."

"It's just…" Remus trailed off.

"The anniversary," Peter said unnecessarily as he set the cup of tea in front of Remus, nodding at Remus' muttered thanks. "You've never told me what all this stuff is for," he said when he returned back to the table with his own cup. He picked up one of the books that littered the table and turned it over to read the spine. It was faded, though, flakes of the leather binding shedding at Peter's touch. "It looks ancient."

"Just a project." Remus took the book from Peter and carefully stacked it with the rest on the edge of the desk.

"For Dumbledore?"

"No, just interested, I guess."

"James could never figure out why you'd bother studying things when they weren't for class work. Or for a prank," Peter said, his smile nearly hidden behind his cup as he blew across the steam. "Of course, he and Sirius--" Peter trailed off when Remus winced, setting his cup down. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right."

"No, I know it bothers you. I just--it's hard, you know? I can remember all the years at Hogwarts so clearly, like it was yesterday, and then… _nothing_. I forget some times how it was for you."

Remus struggled to keep his expression blank, remembering suddenly as if it was a movie--the house with its broken door, the smell of brimstone. James-- 

"It's okay, Peter," he choked out.

"No, it's not. It's really not. None of this is all right. It's just--if I could only _remember_." Peter pushed his hand through his sandy blond hair in frustration before he crossed his arms over his chest, sighing deeply. "I really appreciate you letting me stay, by the way. I know what you felt like now, with your parents. All the cures."

"Yeah?"

"And none of them work. This one is some kind of immersion therapy."

"How does it work?"

"I don't know. The doctor thinks the memory loss is stress related because of the war and James and Lily's death, but I don't even remember their wedding. I don't remember the baby."

"Harry." Remus' voice caught on the name and he cleared his throat, guilt twisting his insides, knowing that he must have cast his Obliviate too strongly. He looked out the window so that he wouldn't have to look at Peter, so that Peter couldn't see it on his face.

"Yeah. It's like this huge blank until I woke up in the Room of Requirement. I thought at first it was a prank, you know? And then I find out James is dead, and Sirius was sent to Azkaban for being a traitor. And I can't remember it. Any of it."

"I'm sure it'll come back," Remus whispered. He sniffed, hating the catch in his voice, and then forced himself to look back at Peter and give what he hoped was a comforting smile.

"I should go before I'm late. Are you still not connected to the floo?"

"I don't think so."

Peter stood, pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders as he prepared to go, but then he paused for so long that Remus knew there was something else. He sat still, waiting for what some trick of his memory told him were oft repeated words. 

"Look, Remus," Peter began after a moment. "I know I'm the last one who should say this because I've got it easy, right? I'm lucky because I can't remember it at all, but--as a friend--you have to quit wallowing in the memory of this. You can't change what happened. James and Lily wouldn't have wanted this for you," Peter said, gesturing to the books and rolls of parchment stacked high on the table between them.

"This isn't--" Remus started but stopped when Peter scowled at him. "I'm not wallowing."

"All right. You don't want to tell me what you're really up to with all this." Peter picked up the book nearest to him and shook it twice before tossing it back down. "That's fine. You think you made mistakes? We all made mistakes. We'd all like to go back. We can't. It doesn't work like that."

"What if it could?"

Peter shook his head sadly. "You're the best friend I have left, Remus. I'm begging you. Forget about Sirius. Forget about James and just live your life."

"I can't do that, Peter. I'm sorry, but I can't."

28 March 1981

Remus crouched in the darkened doorway of an abandoned café. The windows had been boarded up the week after Remus and Sirius had moved into their shared flat, their third since leaving Hogwarts. It was a fourth floor walk-up with a view of the river if you leaned out the window at a rather precarious angle, as Sirius was fond of doing. It was also Muggle-owned, with pipes that creaked if Remus forgot to put the silencing charms on them, and a mysterious stain beneath the broken-down couch. Sirius loved the place, forever the rebellious teenager thumbing his nose at his parents even when he hadn't spoken to either of them in years.

Tonight, Remus watched the door, holding a cigarette burned nearly to the filter, and waited. A little after midnight, he lit another cigarette with the end of the first and had just flicked the burning ember out into the street when the door finally opened. It was strange seeing himself stumble out, forever forgetting about the shallow concrete step that led to the street. He remembered how angry he'd been at Sirius, watched himself kick a garbage bin and could almost feel the pain shooting up his leg. He'd thought at the time that he'd broken his toe and spent a week ignoring his limp before Lily finally cornered him and fixed it. That Remus limped along the street now, the sound of his curses barely loud enough to be heard before he simply faded away.

Remus stared at the spot where he'd been. His research hadn't mentioned that but he supposed it made sense. He couldn't exist in two places--in two times. He decided it didn't matter; he already knew that he could make changes this time. He'd saved Peter's life the first time, though his memory charm had been a bit too enthusiastic. He could save James and Lily now. He could save Sirius.

He climbed the stairs to the flat two at a time and dug into his pocket, pleased when he came up the right key ring. Sirius hadn't let him use magic, relying more on the lack of Death Eater imagination in finding them in Muggle London than applying wards. 

When Remus opened the door, he didn't know what to expect. He remembered every word of their argument--it had been the last time they'd spoken. It was only a few days before the full moon and Remus had been on edge, dreading the return to the North country to spend it with his _own kind_ , Dumbledore had said, meaning to be kind in his way as he pressed Remus into service. Dumbledore had expected the werewolves to trust Remus--they hadn't. He had expected Remus to turn their numbers to the side of the Order, to gain their support. They'd never trusted him, and neither, in the end, had Sirius.

Sirius came out of the kitchen when the door opened, his wand drawn and a bottle of firewhiskey in his other hand. "Forget something?"

Remus shook his head. For a moment he couldn't talk. It had been two years since he'd seen Sirius in person--two years from this night. He had not forgotten how beautiful Sirius was, even pale and drawn from worry and lack of sleep. Even before this night, they'd not said more than two words together that hadn't been shouted, their fights the only thing that broke the stony silence between them. The Remus who had lived without Sirius for two years couldn't stop himself from crossing the room and pulling a stunned Sirius into a tight embrace.

"I'm sorry," he murmured into Sirius' neck. "I'm so sorry."

Sirius didn't move but stood stiff in Remus' arms. "It's too late."

"It can't be. Please don't say that," Remus pleaded, refusing to let go.

"I can't--"

"Please, Sirius--I'll do anything."

"We can't change what's happened."

"I can! I will! Please--" Remus pressed his lips against Sirius' neck again, against his cheek and his chin. He moved his hands to cup Sirius' head, to draw him closer. "Please, Padfoot, I love you. I'll tell you everything, anything you want to know."

"You'll tell me where you've been? You'll tell me where you were going to transform that you don't need me or Prongs?"

"I'll tell you what I can."

"You said anything."

Remus drew back to look at Sirius' red-rimmed eyes, at the tiny scar on his cheek where one of Bellatrix's knives had nicked him during a battle nearly a year ago. Things had still been good then, and they had tumbled into bed as soon as they'd Apparated home. Remus swept the pad of his thumb over the mark before he made his decision. It had been the secrets that they'd been forced to keep that had destroyed them, destroyed Sirius. Remus swallowed, still convinced it wasn't too late--it couldn't be. 

Stepping back, Remus nodded once, deciding he'd tell everything, choosing to believe that if Sirius was the spy, he'd have already known about Remus' failed missions--he wouldn't have asked. "Dumbledore sent me North to transform with Greyback's packs."

"Peter said that you stayed in the city last time. He said that he saw you."

"I left from the tavern in Diagon Alley the day before the moon and then I traveled back down by train. I stayed with my dad after. He wanted to floo you but I wouldn't let him."

"Why?"

"I didn't want you to see me like that."

"I've seen you after the moon loads of times."

"Not like that. Not like--it was different, transforming with feral werewolves. _I_ was different." Remus walked to the bookshelves that lined the wall of their living room and touched the things there he hadn't seen in so long. All of it was lost when Sirius had been sent to Azkaban. He took the photograph of the four Marauders together and stared at it for a long time. He desperately wanted to see James again but knew he couldn't ask, not yet.

"I was ashamed," he said when it felt like he could speak again. "And I failed at my mission. They didn't accept me because I'm a Wizard. They smelled the magic on me." Remus replaced the photo and turned back to Sirius, burying his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for Sirius again. "They smelled you on me."

Sirius didn't say anything, though Remus could see that he had tucked his wand away and set the bottle down onto the table. He stood silently watching Remus, his hands twitching at his sides in a familiar nervous habit that Sirius had never grown out of.

"You can ask my dad. I spent three days there before coming back to you, and by then you were already gone."

"I was on a mission."

"I know."

"You don't want to know where I was?"

"Yes. No. I trust you, Sirius."

"That's not what you told Peter."

Remus searched his memory, trying to recall ever having said that to Peter. He couldn't remember, it was so long ago, and talking to Peter had become difficult. The war had taken its toll on him soonest because James had changed, Remus remembered that well. He remembered Peter being paranoid and upset, afraid because James was frequently in the thick of things, putting everything on the line and pulling his friends along with him because they could hardly help but follow as they had always done. Peter thought it was recklessness rather than bravery.

Remus couldn't remember telling Peter that he didn't trust Sirius but supposed he must have. He knew that if he had said it then he'd been wrong, that maybe it was the loss of this thing between them that had destroyed Sirius. It had happened before in sixth year, that crisis of faith between them, but then James had been able to save them both, to pull Sirius back from the darkness that Sirius believed lingered in his soul, inherited from his mother along with his gray eyes and inky hair.

"Peter must have misunderstood me," Remus said carefully, not willing to be caught in a lie but also unwilling to admit that he had ever questioned Sirius' loyalty to the cause--to Remus. He crossed the room again, reaching for Sirius, willing him to believe it was the truth. He tried to believe it as well.

"And that's what you came back to tell me."

"I came back because I love you-- _only ever_ you--and I don't want this to be it."

Sirius didn't push him away when Remus touched his arm, his shoulder. He didn't turn away when Remus kissed him this time, and Remus didn't breathe again until he felt Sirius suddenly grab him back, his hands fisting into Remus' traveling cloak, dragging him closer. Until Sirius was kissing him back open-mouthed and violently, pressing him against the wall as his hands dug into Remus' clothing, pulling them away. 

They were inseparable after that, Sirius fiercely protective and possessive, and Remus pouring everything into being exactly what Sirius needed him to be--submissive, and honest, and so very, very _present_. The war raged on and on, and Remus saw nothing of the Potters, afraid to ask to see them--to know where they were--because he was afraid of how Sirius would interpret it. Their trust was a precarious thing.

It was different with Peter, who seemed startled that Remus was back in Sirius' bed. Remus wanted to explain this to him, how things were different, how Remus knew his mistake and had been able to fix it-- _fix this thing_ that had happened to them all. He wanted to tell Peter that he could tell with each kiss, he could tell each time Sirius buried himself into Remus' body that he had saved Sirius--he had saved them all, and most of all himself. 

But this Peter wouldn't understand. This Peter still trembled, laughing because he used to be their teetotaler, even one drink making him giddy before putting him out. Now he could drink even Remus and his werewolf's metabolism under the table, and needed it before every mission to keep his wand hand steady.

The night before Halloween--the night the Fidelus charm was to be performed--Peter begged to be allowed to go with Sirius to see James and to say good-bye. Remus wanted to go as well, but said nothing when Sirius asked him to wait with their packed bags and kissed him good-bye. They were all going into hiding. They would leave the moment he came back.

On that first chilly morning in November, Remus knew before he saw the headlines of _The Daily Prophet_ that it hadn't worked. That he had failed again. For a long time, he couldn't force himself to move from the bed he shared with Sirius--the sheets that still smelled strongly of the last time they were together. He knew what would happen now--knew that Peter would be dead, knew that Dumbledore would ask him to go North again, to disappear for a bit. He knew that everything and everyone he loved would be gone before it was safe for him to return.

After a hot shower and a cup of yesterday's coffee, Remus walked around the flat one last time. The Ministry officials would come soon and everything would be taken, destroyed, or lost. Remus took the picture of the four of them from the bookcase and tucked it into his pocket. He would leave, he decided--he had known when he had woke up alone that morning. He would try again.

From deep inside a pocket, Remus dug out a worn parchment and prodded it with his wand. A tiny flag etched with name fluttered weakly. He whispered the countercharm to his spell and felt the world spin dizzyingly toward a bright line at the horizon he'd almost reached before he passed out.

***

Remus was flat on his back and terribly cold. The smell of dank earth was wet and heavy in his nose, and Remus rolled onto his side, digging his ragged nails into the hard-packed dirt. For a long time he struggled to remember his name, his parents' names, the spells he'd learned as a boy at Hogwarts. Behind closed eyes, he tried to count the things he loved--curling beneath heavy blankets with a book when it rained, gray eyes and warm hands, the sound of James' laughter when he flew high above a Quidditch pitch. These were the things the wolf had never known, he thought, and then he knew it must have been a full moon night. He felt pathetically grateful that he had missed the transformation.

"Lie still, son."

"Da?"

"Hush. You're injured."

"I must be home," he whispered, and he tried to sit up. 

His father helped him, steadying him as Remus clutched his head between his bloodied hands. "You're safe for now."

"We're home," he whispered again but this time it sounded more like a question.

His father didn't answer but wrapped his cloak around Remus' shoulders and helped him to his feet. "I know it's early," he said instead. "Can you walk?"

"I think so."

"There's water upstairs. You can wash up and have a bit of a rest before we move on."

"Move on to where?"

"I don't know, lad. We'll have to look at that map of yours."

Remus straightened to look into his father's eyes, grabbing onto the front of his dusty robes to keep him from moving away. He hadn't told anyone of the map, of the thing he had created.

"It's safe. I've kept it safe, and your wand, too, but we can't stay here any longer, I don't think."

"Why?"

Remus' father stared hard at Remus, his eyes narrowed, as he raised frantic hands to feel along Remus' scalp. Finding no wounds, his father took a step back, lifting his wand to point it at Remus' chest. "What did your mother call you when you were a boy?"

"Da?"

"Prove to me you're Remus Lupin before I kill you where you stand."

"Zajec! She called me Zajec." Remus took a step toward his father, his hands held out, relieved when his father's hand faltered, lowering his wand and his shoulders at the same time. "She said it meant little rabbit. She said it was because I had big feet."

"She thought you were perfect," his father said as the suspicion left his eyes, giving way to tenderness and memory. "She called you that because it was what her father had called her."

"What's going on, Da?"

"We should go upstairs. You're cold and weak still, and we must travel tonight."

Remus wanted to push for more answers but meekly followed his father up the rickety ladder that he must have lowered down into the cellar to reach Remus. He left it now as he replaced the hatch that covered the entrance, while Remus looked around the dingy room and shivered, pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders. At the far end of the room there was a fireplace and his father led him to it, gently pushing him down to sit before he used his wand to start a small fire.

"Warm yourself," his father said, putting a flask into his hands.

Remus sipped from it, finding firewhiskey when he expected tea. He coughed but sipped again, the whiskey doing more to warm him than the fire. He watched as his father dug through a bag, pulling from it clothes and bandages. They were both silent until Remus was clean and mended.

"Eat this," his father said, putting a crust of dry bread in his hand. "We'll have to find food, too, after this."

"What's the date?"

"November first."

"What year?" Remus ignored the sudden return of fear in his father's eyes and waited for his answer.

"1984."

Remus nodded, stunned that he had gone so far forward. He didn't know the boundaries, that was true; no one did. What he did--was doing--was dark, was terribly dangerous, and he could never know who had gone before him. The journals were always incomplete, their authors lost to history.

"You said you kept my map safe."

"It's here." His father drew out a ragged piece of parchment and handed it to Remus along with Remus' wand.

Remus unfolded it, tapped his wand against its surface, murmuring his _I solemnly swear I'm up to no good_ , the old Marauders' Map password. It had seemed appropriate, and even now it seemed to lighten Remus' heart as he thought that James would have approved. He watched as the lines formed before he whispered, "Sirius Black." His heart dropped when nothing happened. "I don't understand."

"You've been searching for years, lad."

"Has he never been there?"

"No."

"It must be the map. I must have--" Remus frowned, studying the lines that measured not only longitude or latitude but also days and weeks and years, stretching now from March 1981 to November 1984. Remus pointed the tip of his wand to the surface again and whispered _James Potter_ , his stomach clenching at the sight of the small flag wavering some where near Godric's Hollow in 1981. Dead. He'd known but it still hurt to see it. 

_Sirius Black_ , he tried again but there was nothing. "He must just be somewhere we haven't been yet. We'll keep looking."

He began to fold the parchment up but his father stopped him with a hand to his wrist. "And Pettigrew? Check on him, lad."

Remus looked up quickly, surprised by the tone of his father's voice. He pressed the tip of his wand once more to the surface of the map and whispered, "Peter Pettigrew." He was surprised when the tiny flag came to life very near his own. "He's here."

"We have to hide you." His father stood without another word and went to pull open the hatch that led to the cellar. "Down here. It's not ideal but it'll have to do?"

"What's going on?"

"There's no time to explain."

"Why can't we Apparate?" Though even as he asked, the answer came to Remus in the trick of memory that reminded him that he had been living this life even though it wasn't immediately familiar. He pushed up the sleeve of his jumper and stared at the mark on his wrist. "The Werewolf Registration. They can find me."

"Takes them a bit, especially after the full. They've never come this fast." His father seized Remus' hand and cast a spell that left Remus shaking and unsteady. "That will shield you for a bit but you have to hide. The Dark Lord--"

Remus swallowed hard said as he gripped his wand more tightly when his father said the name. This, he knew, was the worst of all possible outcomes. He stared at his map for a moment more but couldn't bring himself to whisper Harry's name. Instead, he struggled to his feet, his knees twinging with each movement--every step. He was still sore and knew he wouldn't last long in a duel. 

"There's no time. Hide!" Remus' father helped Remus to the ladder, waiting until he was on the ground before he tossed a bag down behind him. "Not a sound," his father warned as the door rattled beneath the pounding of a heavy fist. He closed the hatch and Remus strained to listen as his father went to answer the door.

"Wizard Lupin," came a familiar voice, and Remus froze, chilled to his core, the voice as familiar as his own . "We suspect you've been hiding Remus John Lupin. Where is he, comrade?"

"He's not here."

"You are, I believe, well aware of the punishments for harbouring a fugitive werewolf?"

"I am, Wizard Pettigrew."

Remus crept forward carefully to where a knothole in the pine floorboard allowed him to see into the room above. He could just make out deep plum-colored robes and then Peter, his face round and florid, a sheen of sweat making it glossy. His wand, and those of the goons who stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him, were pointed at his father. Remus unrolled the parchment once more, whispering Sirius' name again more urgently this time. There was nothing. He wasn't here in this place or in this time. 

"Wizard Lupin, as Chief Warlock, I hereby declare that you have been found guilty by the Wizengamot of defying the 1982 Decree for the Eradication of All Traitors to the Minister of Magic, Lord Voldemort, as well as aiding and abetting a known fugitive, the werewolf Remus John Lupin, and I sentence you to death."

"No!" Remus cried out, nearly dropping both the wand and his parchment map as Peter lifted his wand, though he realized almost immediately that whatever charm his father had used, Peter could not hear him--likely would not be able to see him.

"Go, Remus!" His father shouted and then was silenced, his body falling heavily onto the floor in a burst of green light.

"Search the cabin," Peter said, using the toe of his heavy boot to roll Remus' father over. "Use every disillusionment charm you know. Find the werewolf and kill him."

Remus shuddered at the sound of Peter's voice, calm and boyish, as if he was suggesting a midnight trip to the Hogwarts' kitchen. A flicker of an idea came to him, a remembered word--a bitter look when Remus had stood by Sirius, blithely dismissing Peter's concerns about who the spy might be. He'd thought it strange, Peter's anger over Remus' unwavering loyalty. At the time, Remus had thought it fear--cowardice--and had pitied him. 

Looking up through a gap in the floorboards where he hid, Remus could see the malice that lined Peter's face as he stared down at Remus' father. He couldn't bear the thought, could not let it form fully and shoved it away. Peter had been their friend. 

The cabin shook as the wizards above him cast their charms, determined, it seemed, to tear it apart in their effort to find him. Remus did as his father had begged him to do in his final moment, and, blindly jabbing at the parchment map with his wand, whispered the spell that would send him back to try to fix his mistakes one more time.

September 1, 1977

For a long time, Remus sat very still with his eyes closed, afraid to move. He could tell he was on a train, that he felt young and safe and alive but he couldn't stop the fear that coursed through him. He hadn't meant to cast the spell like that. The last two times, he had studied for months ahead so that he knew exactly when he was returning, and why. He'd had a plan each time. This time, he could only think of Peter's angry face when he'd cast the killing curse, of his father's lifeless eyes staring down at him. Remus shuddered as though he'd been plunged in ice water.

"Hey, Moony, c'mon. Wake up. You're dreaming."

"Dreaming?" It came out as a question, and for a moment Remus wished it was true. He felt a warm hand spread over his knee, and opened his eyes to see that he was wearing his school robes over jeans--his favorite pair, though they had a hole in the knee and the hem had worn away from where he'd walked on it rather than roll them up. They'd been James' before he'd outgrown them. He spread his own hand over his thigh, feeling the soft, worn denim, and saw the bandage that covered a bite that had taken longer to heal than usual--he would always carry the scar. The moon had been bad that month; and with that, he remembered. It was Sirius' hand on his knee. Sirius who was sitting across from him with the concerned look in his eye that Remus remembered so well. 

He knew when he was—the beginning of seventh year, and they were on the train to Hogwarts. It would still be months before they worked up the nerve to kiss, to take a long, slow flirtation to something more.

"Not good ones, by the look of you," Sirius teased as he caught Remus' chin between long fingers. "You haven't been sleeping well, have you?"

"No," Remus answered honestly. He hadn't slept well in decades, he wanted to say, but didn't. 

"We'll see Pomfrey as soon as we get to Hogwarts."

"No, I'm fine. Just--"

"Tired, yeah. She can give you something."

"I'll be all right now. Where's Peter?" Remus asked, his voice trembling a bit.

"Up front with James, likely polishing James' Head Boy badge. They won't be back for a while. You could sleep for a bit longer."

Remus shook his head slowly. He knew he shouldn't have come back so far in time, suspected that he should leave now but couldn't bring himself to move as Sirius slid onto the bench next to him, his hand cool on Remus' neck as Sirius pulled him to lean against Sirius' side. Remus went willingly, glad to push his nose against Sirius' tee shirt as Sirius brushed his lips against Remus' forehead.

"Stubborn," Sirius whispered, his voice a soft purr.

In the space of a breath, Remus could recall this whole year--the way they'll dance around one another, the soft touches when they think no one else can see, the two steps back every time they take one shaky shuffle forward. He _missed_ that, he realized with a suddenness that grabbed him around the throat and stole any comeback he might have had for Sirius once upon a time. He _missed_ Sirius, more than he'd ever be able to say.

Finally gathering enough courage to meet Sirius' eyes, Remus curled his hand into the front of Sirius' tee shirt and tugged him closer. He watched as Sirius' pupils dilated subtly, with surprise or desire, Remus wasn't sure--both, he hoped--before his eyes fluttered closed and he stretched just that tiny distance to cover Sirius' mouth with his own. For a second, neither moved. They just breathed each other in and then Sirius was pulling him closer, sinking down into Remus' arms, as they kissed open-mouthed and messily--inexperienced in everything but enthusiasm.

***

Remus shivered and pulled the sleeves of his jumper over his chapped hands as he stared out the window to the bare trees and the rain-soaked patch of mud that served as their garden. They were at home in their tiny cottage near Hogsmeade, a place they hadn't planned to return to for some time but now, as _The Daily Prophet_ declared the war over, there was little reason to go into hiding as they'd planned. Sirius sat at the table, the pieces of James' wand in front of him. Only the deeply hued dragon heartstring at its core held it together, and Remus watched as Sirius tried to fit the pieces back together.

"Sirius?" Remus whispered, his voice ragged. 

Sirius had been silent since they'd found out, since they'd seen the still, cold bodies of Lily and James, and Harry had been whisked away out of their reach.

Sirius, Remus knew, was shattered by James' death. Even so--even with the war--Remus was ashamed to admit even if only to himself that he'd been happy for far longer than he felt he had the right to be. This life, he knew, had been selfish, but in the end, he couldn't bear to see Sirius suffer.

"I can help," he said. Outside the window an owl hooted in their garden. It'd been there since early that morning--one of Hogwarts', likely with a message from Dumbledore. There was still work to be done, Remus was sure it would say, even now--perhaps especially now. 

Both sides had had their spies, and it was this, in the end, that had been their failing. Roundly declared weak and talentless by all except James, Peter had been one of their best, comfortable in his Ministry job, feeding the other side secrets that James created for the purpose. It'd been little more than one of their old games, except Peter had played his role too well. They had never expected the betrayal.

"I can change things," Remus said into their quiet kitchen and the owl hooted again, long and low before it took flight. Remus watched as it swooped over the garden wall before gaining altitude and disappearing after a while into a black speck at the horizon.

"We can't change this, Remus." Sirius' voice caught on Remus' name, and when he stood, his chair scraped loudly on the floor. He stood there, still and silent, his hands gripping tightly at the edge of the table.

Remus winced, staring at the rigid line of Sirius' shoulders. 

"I--" he began and stopped, unsure of how to explain. "There's a spell," he said instead but then stopped again. 

He'd done everything right this time, he thought. There had been no doubt, no moment of distrust between them since their first kiss so long ago, and yet he knew it was his failing. He couldn't close his eyes without seeing his father's lifeless eyes or hearing the sound of Peter's voice as he cast that final spell in a different time, a different life. He hadn't forgotten--he'd never forgotten--it had just become easier to believe it couldn't happen here, when he'd been so happy. 

"How many Wizards do you think have thought of that before?" Sirius asked, turning to look at Remus, his gray eyes--so often sparkling with mischief or the chase, were dark with grief, as if the light had forever been extinguished. "Just go back and change everything. I remembered once in third year, McGonagall had mentioned time turners, and James and I thought--" 

Sirius paused, swallowing hard as if the memory was too bitter to remember. "We thought if we could find one, then we could go back and save you from that first bite. We got a week's detention and a stern lecture from Dumbledore himself when we were caught trying to break into his office."

"This is different."

"How?"

"I've done it before."

Sirius straightened up. "You can't have."

"I should have told you. I wanted to. I just--"

"You knew this would happen?"

"I had hoped it wouldn't, but no matter what I do--" Remus stopped abruptly, aware suddenly that he was shouting. He scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair, leaving it standing on end. "I could try. I could go back and-- I don't know. If I go back and tell you, you'll think I'm mad, or worse, a spy. We've--"

"Show me how."

Remus nodded once before he turned to climb the stairs to their attic, Sirius following. He knelt before his old school trunk, rested his shaking hands on its lid, and paused. "This is the only secret I've ever kept from you."

"I believe you."

"I didn't want to, but I thought if I could only--we were happy, weren't we, Padfoot?"

"Very."

"We aren't always."

"You could have stopped yourself from being bitten." Sirius touched Remus' shoulder where his first bite was hidden beneath his jumper. "Everything could have changed for you, Remus. Why didn't you?"

"I don't know." Remus used his wand to unlock the trunk and push the heavy lid up to rest against the wall. He rummaged through books and rolls of parchment, things he hadn't looked at in years before he found what he was looking for--the old map that allowed him to move through space and time. It felt brittle, the magic weak. He suspected that if he traveled, this would be his last chance.

Remus stood and closed the lid so that he could sit on it and spread the map out across the knee of his faded corduroys. "That's not true," he said, almost too low to be heard. "I know why. I couldn't bear not coming back to you, and I was afraid that if I changed that--if I wasn't a werewolf--that maybe I wouldn't have been in Gryffindor, or--I don't know. I had to come back to you."

"Go back to me one last time, Remus, and tell me so that we can change things together."

January 8, 1981

"If you ever speak of this to anyone, Potter--"

"Someone had to be the girl."

"You would have done just as well."

"You're the prettiest of us all, princess." James laughingly danced out of reach as Sirius swung out, tripping over his long, flowing and stolen robes. "Manners, Mrs. LeStrange. Remember, you have to act like a lady."

"Something Bellatrix has never been accused of, I promise you. Where's Remus with the Polyjuice potion? I want to get this over with."

"I'm here."

Sirius stepped back as Remus' head popped up over the edge of the rickety fire escape, slipping a bit on the slate roofing in his borrowed heels. He cursed when James began laughing again but stopped when he saw Remus' pale face as he clambered onto the roof. "What's wrong? You look as though you've seen a ghost."

"I always liked the ghosts," Remus said stupidly, staring at Sirius.

"The lipstick was Lily's idea."

"It's very ... red."

"Well spotted, Mr. Moony," James said, clapping Remus' shoulder and laughing out loud again. "I'm leaving. Don't linger too long, Pads, but wait until Dumbledore's owl comes."

"I know the plan. Berk."

"Idiot," James rejoined but he was still grinning, the weak light emanating from Sirius' wand reflecting off his glasses. "Keep him in line, Moony. Don't let him take the potion until the last minute. It'll be too dangerous--"

"We know, James. Go!"

"Right." 

James apparated away with a pop, leaving Sirius alone with Remus on the rooftop. It was a nice night, and they could see the lights from the barges on the Thames making their slow, snaking way through the city. Sirius extinguished his wand with a whispered _Nox_ and stepped closer, his hands finding Remus' hips in the dark. "You're trembling," he whispered.

"I have something to tell you, but you're going to think I'm insane."

"Likely no more than usual." Sirius meant it as a joke, but Remus didn't laugh. This close Sirius could see the worry and fear in Remus' eyes, though it seemed different from his usual war weariness. "C'mon. You're scaring me. Give us a kiss and then we'll sort it."

"I'll smudge your lipstick."

"Damn the lipstick, Moony." Sirius tugged closer so that they pressed against one another chest to knee and Sirius kissed Remus, not loosening his grip until Remus kissed him back. 

"Tell me," Sirius said when they broke apart, Sirius' hands still buried in the thin material of Remus' traveling cloak, holding him close.

"Peter is the spy."

"I know--"

"No. He's _the_ spy. He's been leaking secrets to the Dark Lord--real ones, not the ones James created."

"Remus--"

"I know. I told you you'd think I was mad but James and Lily are in terrible danger." Remus rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a photo. "Here."

Sirius recognized the picture of the four of them taken in seventh year. It had long sat on their bookcase, propped against a set of old Charms texts. This looked years older though, and was creased as if it been repeatedly handled. The magic was weak on it, the James, Sirius and Remus in the picture smiling lazily, their arms over each other's shoulders. The Peter still moved, skulking at the edge of the picture as if he'd like to escape. Sirius turned it over and was surprised to see his own spiky handwriting across the back with a date in the future: 10 November 1981 and the words _believe him_.

"Remus--"

"You sent me back because you think we can change things. Peter is the spy, Sirius. You told me to come back to you."

Sirius heard the flap of an owl's wings and looked up in time to see Dumbledore's owl, a message clutched in its beak as it flew toward them. "I can find out," he whispered. "Tonight as Bellatrix. That's why--"

Sirius stared at the picture again before he ripped it in half, letting the part with Peter flutter to the ground so far below them. He put his hand on Remus' shoulder and grinned wildly. "I believe you," he said, kissing Remus again and knowing it was the truth. 

***

"Tell it again, Padfoot. But this time leave out the kissing."

"The kissing is the best part." Sirius laughed when Harry crinkled his nose up, his delicate eight year old sensibilities as offended by romance as they thrilled to descriptions of duels and other daring tales that had seen the end of the Dark Lord. 

James laughed with him, ruffling his hand over Harry's head and mussing his already wild hair. "Once was enough tonight. Say goodnight to your uncles and then off to bed with you."

Harry groaned but got up to do as he was asked, giving Sirius a tackling hug before he threw his arms around Remus' neck. James followed Harry from the room, calling for Lily, and then the house was quiet once more as they settled the children into bed.

"You've been quiet tonight." Sirius crawled from where he'd been sitting with Harry in front of the fireplace to where Remus sat on the couch, his book untouched on his knee.

"Tired."

"But happy," Sirius said as he twined their fingers together. He pulled Remus' hand close to kiss his palm before he stretched to put a gentle kiss onto Remus' lips.

"Very."


End file.
